Summer
It was raining. Otherwise Bailey wouldn’t have stood underneath the awning of the furniture store. The shop window was filled with the warm glow of lamps for sale. It was 3:00 in the afternoon and should have been muggy as hell. This was New Orleans, and usually in late summer the rain fell like it was trying to kill a person and the air was so thick it was like standing inside someone’s mouth. But not that day. She was late for the cafe, and she knew that the phone ringing in her pocket was probably her boss, but she let it go to voicemail.
A lady across the street pulled her daughter by the hand as they ran through the rain. The kid took a double take at Bailey, and then stared as her mother dragged her along. People often took a good, hard look at Bailey trying to figure out if she was a man or a woman. Her short, dark hair and long, thin body confused them. It was kids who stared unashamedly, sometimes even asking her what she was.
The bell jingled on the shop door, and a woman with a light brown ponytail stepped beside her. She was the opposite of Bailey in build – shorter and all curves.
“Mind if I smoke?” the woman said.
“No.”
She pulled a pack of Reds out of her jeans pocket, lit up, and exhaled like she’d been holding in that breath for a while.
“I usually smoke in the back,” she said, “so I don’t turn off customers. But no one’s shopping today. You didn’t look like you were coming in. Were you?”
“No,” said Bailey. “Can I bum one?”
The woman handed out a smoke and offered a light.
“I’m Wren,” she said. “Like the bird.”
“I’m Bailey. Like nothing.”
“Nothing?” Wren said. “Every name means something. Let’s see.”
Wren took her phone from her back pocket and typed with one thumb. “Bailey…it means ‘steward.’”
“Steward like the guys on the plane?”
“Kind of.” Wren held out her phone. “See. It’s someone who looks after people.’”
“I never did like my name,” Bailey said.
“How come?”
“All the other Baileys I knew in school were so girly.”
“It sounds nice to me. My mom’s name is Fanny. At least you don’t have a name that’s a butt.”
Bailey smiled at her. “True.”
“My mom owns the store. Been here since I was eighteen. How about you?”
“I’m a manager at Streetcar.”
“They got good coffee.”
“Thanks. Brewing the coffee is the one part of the job I like.”
Bailey’s phone rang again, and this time she answered it.
“Yeah,” she said. “Sorry, got caught in the rain. Yeah, I’ll be right there.” She hung up and took a drag. “Goddamn it.”
“Your boss?”
“Yeah, how’d you know?”
“You got all serious.”
“Have I not sounded serious besides that? My girlfriend tells me I’m pretty serious.”
“Everybody sounds serious when they watch the rain. Makes you think about things.”
“What’s it make you think about?” Bailey asked.
“Going to the beach. I know. That doesn’t make much sense. But one time I was in Destin and it was raining when I woke up in the morning. Have you ever watched it rain on the ocean?”
“No.”
“The rain made it different. Like, the day before my friends and I had been playing volleyball and floating on rafts, but all that rain and the rough waves made the water look like it really was. Kind of dangerous. What’s it make you think of?”
“That the boss is going to be pissed that we’ll get less business,” Bailey said.
“Your boss sounds grouchy.”
“She can be.”
“Well. You get to see your girlfriend at the end of the day.”
“My boss is my girlfriend.”
“Oh,” Wren said. “I don’t know if that’s better or worse than my boss being my mom.”
“I guess it depends on your mom.”
“She’s nice.”
Bailey nodded.
“I’m sorry,” Wren told her. “I didn’t mean to bring up something uncomfortable.”
“It’s okay.” Bailey ground the cigarette out on a metal trashcan. “I should get to work.”
“Me too.”
Bailey stepped into the street, wondering what the rain looked like on the ocean.
Autumn
Halloween morning was hot, and Bailey was grateful she’d soon be in the air-conditioning of The Streetcar to keep the zombie makeup from melting off of her face. But when she saw the chair shaped like Frankenstein’s monster in front of the furniture store, she had to stop. She dropped into the seat, spreading her arms along the monster’s hard plastic ones.
The bell jingled, and Wren flitted before her wearing rainbow fairy wings and a tutu. She tapped Bailey’s head with a purple, sparkly wand.
“I grant you a wish!” Wren exclaimed. “What’ll it be?”
“Make this chair more comfortable.”
“You’re not cozy on Frankenstein’s lap?”
“He’s a bit hard on my bum.”
Wren snorted. “That’s what she said.”
“Really? Are we ten?”
Wren raised the wand. “I grant you a sense of humor!”
Bailey took a soft pack of cigarettes out of her pocket. “I grant you a smoke.”
“Awe, for me?”
“Well, I’ve been taking enough of yours lately.”
Bailey gave the fairy a light, and lit one for herself.
“So I went on this date last night,” said Wren.
“With who?”
“Somebody I met on Tinder. She spent the entire time talking about her iguana. She didn’t ask me anything about myself.”
“How much can you say about an iguana the whole night?” Bailey asked.
“Don’t give it that much credit, I only stayed an hour.”
“Dating is so awkward.”
“When was the last time you were out there?”
“Eleven years ago.”
“Damn, you’re old.”
Bailey blew the smoke out. “No, I’m not.”
“Yeah, you are. Eleven years ago I was in the tenth grade. Still going out with boys. You were in a big, adult relationship.”
“I don’t know how adult it was. We were twenty and stupid.”
“I was planning on becoming a park ranger,” said Wren. “How stupid is that?”
“It’s not at all. How come you didn’t?”
“Mom needed me here. My dad had left and she didn’t have anybody.”
“I understand that. I helped Jewel open the café. The first couple of years were rough. Business has been good for a while, but I’ve just stayed there.”
“Is there something else you want to do?”
Bailey scooted to Frankenstein’s knees. “I want to be a travel photographer. I want to get a motorcycle and ride all over the country and take pictures. Then I want to go to other countries and photograph them. I want to be one of those people that tell stories with pictures.”
“Do you have a motorcycle?”
“No. Or the money to travel.”
“I love traveling,” Wren said. “Well. You could get a motorcycle at least, huh?”
“Yeah, I guess. What about you? You could go camping at least.”
“I do,” Wren said. “I get away every once and a while. If it wouldn’t bother your old lady I’d say you should come with me.”
Bailey smiled. She stuck the cigarette in her mouth, and it moved up and down when she spoke. “Speaking of which, I gotta get to work. Do me a favor though.”
“Sure.”
“Don’t go on another date with someone who doesn’t ask you questions about yourself.”
Winter
Bailey walked inside the furniture shop with a messenger bag on her shoulder and a small gift in her hand. The place was lit by lamps scattered throughout. Regular lamps, lamps with glass bases, and ones with stained glass shades. The rest of it had chairs, antique sofas, and writing desks. The ticking grandfather clocks on the wall made Bailey feel like she was in someone’s library. There was a sign over the cashier’s counter welcoming the new year, and below the sign was Wren, typing something into the computer.
“Come on over,” Wren said, looking at the screen. “I’m almost done.”
Bailey checked out a refurnished chair. Wren gave a hard, last tap on the keyboard.
“Done,” Wren said. She reached under the counter and held out a flat, rectangular present. “Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!”
“Same,” Bailey said, trading one gift for the other. “Oh, I almost forgot. Yours comes with a card.”
She dug in her messenger bag and pulled out a red envelope. “I’m sorry I couldn’t give you this before Christmas. Cards after December 26th aren’t worth much.”
“Are you kidding, it’s great,” said Wren. “How was Vermont?”
“It was fine. Jewel’s folks are always nice. There was snow. Drunk relatives. Ya know.”
“Sounds colorful,” Wren said, tearing open the envelope.
Wren gushed over the glittery snowflakes on the front of the card. Inside was a brochure for a state park.
“They have a volunteer program,” Bailey said, pointing the paragraph that she’d highlighted with yellow marker. “It’s only about an hour away. The lady on the phone said they have some people that just come by once a week and do all the ranger duties. They’re looking for people right now.”
“I know where this is,” Wren said. She read the paragraph again as if she didn’t understand the words the first time. “Seriously? They take volunteers?”
“Yeah. You could do it on your day off or something.”
Wren hurried around the counter and locked Bailey in a hug.
“Thank you,” Wren said, squeezing her.
“You’re welcome,” Bailey wheezed. “That’s not your present, you know, that was just information.”
Wren released her. “But it’s so thoughtful, and really weird because…open your present.”
“But you haven’t opened yours yet.”
“I want you to open this one first.”
Bailey shook it by her ear. “Is it a pair of skates? A frying pan?”
“Shut up, dummy, and open it.”
Bailey tore the paper. The book had a winding highway on the cover and metal sign that read, “Historic Route 66.” She flipped through the pages. It was a collection of photographs from the old road.
“This is beautiful,” Bailey said. She held the book to her nose and took a deep breath. “It even smells beautiful. New photography books smell even better than regular new books.”
“Do you like it? I thought maybe it would inspire you.”
“It does,” Bailey turned a page. “Okay, maybe it makes me a little sad because I’m not traveling, but man, it’s nice to look at and think about.”
“You did just travel all the way up to Vermont. Or does it not count because you flew?”
Bailey closed the book. “No, it doesn’t count. It’s not really exploring, more like just visiting. Open yours.”
Wren unwrapped her gift to find a little white box. Inside was a silver chain with a chubby bird pendant. Its wings spread open.
“It’s a wren,” Bailey told her.
“It’s got so much personality,” Wren said. “Look at this cute like chubby guy. Where did you find it?”
“Oh, I have a friend who makes stuff like this.”
“You had it made?”
“Yeah, I mean I looked for one on Etsy but none of them were the right kind of bird. So I asked him to make this.”
“I love it.” Wren put it on and rubbed the bird between her thumb and forefinger. “I saw you admiring the chair. Are you interested in a purchase, madam?”
“Actually,” Bailey said. “Yes. We’re down a chair.”
“What happened to it?”
“It broke.”
“Did the legs give way? Maybe I can fix it.”
“Oh no. I doubt it’s fixable. It’s smashed.”
“Smashed?” Wren asked.
Bailey sat on a blue cushioned chair. “I told Jewel that I wanted to buy a motorcycle. She got really mad. She hates bikes. She thinks they’re too dangerous and if I got one she thinks I’d look too butch. I told her it would just be for me to take day trips or something. She started throwing things. She’s done that before. Not often. Maybe every few years we’ll have a knock down drag out fight and she’ll break stuff. She’s never thrown something that big, though.”
“Did she throw it at you?”
Bailey nodded. “She missed. It hit the wall and that made her even more mad. So she picked it up and started smashing stuff with it.”
“When did this happen?”
“Last night. Happy New Year.”
Neither of them spoke. Then Bailey said, “I’m afraid that she’ll hurt herself if I leave.”
“Has she said she would?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s not okay, Bailey.”
“I know. Doesn’t make it less scary.”
“I’m afraid she’s going to hurt you.”
“She won’t. She only gets like that if she’s had too much to drink, and she’s too wobbly to land a hit.”
“But she is hurting you.” Wren picked up the book from the counter and opened the cover. “I wrote an inscription. Did you see it?”
Bailey shook her head. She took the book. Beneath the title, Wren had drawn a stick figure riding something that resembled a motorcycle. Under the drawing it said, “Your heart has two wheels itching to feel the road. Where it goes, my heart goes too.”
“Wren.”
Wren wrapped her arms around Bailey’s neck. “She can’t hurt you.”
“I need to think,” Bailey said. “It’s hard to think when you’re close.”
Wren pulled back just enough to gaze at her. The grandfather clocks ticked in unison.
“I should go,” Bailey said.
“Do you love her?”
“She feels bad about what happened,” Bailey said. “She doesn’t want to do it again.”
“I’m not asking how she feels, I’m asking how you feel. Do you love her?”
“That’s a complicated question.”
“No, it’s not.”
Bailey stood up. “It is. People are complicated. There are parts of her that I like. There are these other parts that I don’t like at all, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t care about her.”
“Just because you don’t want her to die doesn’t mean that you’re in love with her. You deserve to be happy. You deserve to not feel so trapped all the time.”
“So do you. Have you ever told your mom how much you hate working here?”
“I don’t hate working here.”
“I’m sorry, is it a complicated question?”
“That’s not fair,” Wren said. “It’s not the same thing.”
“How do you think she’ll feel if you get another job?”
“Alone.”
“Exactly.”
“So. What?” Wren asked. “We both just stay miserable forever?”
“Children are meant to leave their parents,” Bailey said. “Partners are supposed to stay.”
“What if it was me? What if this wasn’t my mom’s store, what if it was my girlfriend? And she threw all this stuff around. What would you tell me to do?”
Wren waited for an answer.
“It’s hard to imagine you being in a relationship,” Bailey said.
“Thanks,” Wren said.
“No, I didn’t mean it like that. I don’t know how someone hasn’t scooped you up already. I just meant that I don’t like to think about you being with someone else.”
“Well, think about it,” Wren said. “And imagine she’s just like Jewel. What would you tell me to do?”
“You’re different. You deserve better than that.”
“Oh my God, why are you so insecure? What would you tell me?”
“I’d tell you to run as fast as you can,” Bailey said.
“Exactly,” said Wren. “I have to get back to work.”
Bailey’s eyes burned. She squeezed them shut so she wouldn’t cry.
“Can I buy this chair?” Bailey asked. “It’s pretty comfortable.”
“Of course, you can.”
Bailey pulled Wren to her. She stroked Wren’s hair until the bell jingled on the door.
They didn’t see each other for three months after that.
Spring
Bailey’s motorcycle rumbled down Oak Street. Wren stamped out her cigarette and ran out from under the awning to greet her at the curb.
Bailey turned off the machine and pulled off her helmet, her black hair falling across her eyes.
“Daaaaaamn,” Wren said.
Bailey smiled so hard, her eyes bugged out. “I know. I love this thing. I rode all the way out to Bay St. Louis this morning. I watched the sun come up on the beach.”
Wren bear hugged her. “Come sit. Tell me everything you saw.”
Bailey showed her the pictures she took of the sunrise over the water, and talked about how empty the road was on that Sunday morning.
“I need a real camera,” Bailey said, putting away her phone. “That’s my next buy, but they’re pricey.”
“It would be worth it,” Wren said. “Those pictures are good. Really. I want to see more.”
“I want you to ride with me. You have to experience it. When I was out there this morning there was no sound but the bike. I didn’t even think about anything. Have you ever had a moment where you didn’t think of anything? When you just were?”
“No,” Wren said, sliding her wren pendant up and down the chain. “I’ve tried it in meditation but I just keeping thinking about how I have to stop thinking.”
“That’s happened to me too. But this time, I just relaxed.”
“I don’t know how you can relax going seventy miles an hour in the breeze, but I’m really glad that you do.”
“It’s one of those great things that defy logic. How was your first day at the park?”
Wren packed the cigarette box against her wrist more vigorously. “It was amazing! I got to feed a baby bird.”
“How’s that work? Did you dangle a worm from your mouth?”
“Ew, no. I fed it some special stuff we have on the end of a toothpick. It fell out of the nest and the momma left it.”
“How did it feel?”
“Like I want to work in the woods with animals all the time.” She gave Bailey a smoke. “What’s the rest of your day like? You have to go to work?”
Bailey took a drag from her cigarette and leaned back in her chair. “No. I won’t be going back to Streetcar.”
“Really? Thank God. I mean, are you okay?”
“Ha. Look at you trying not to smile.”
Wren laughed. “I’m happy for you. I know it’s hard to quit.” She gestured at the shop. “Obviously. What did Jewel say when you told her?”
“Oh. I didn’t just mean that I quit. I didn’t quit, as a matter of fact. I broke up with her, and she fired me. Two weeks ago.”
“You broke up with her?”
“She was pissed about the bike. We got into a big fight about it and I didn’t back down. I told her I was buying it. She started screaming and breaking stuff in the house again. I thought about you. I thought about what I would tell you if you were with someone who was doing the same thing. I told her I couldn’t do this anymore. The words popped right out of my mouth.
“So she fired me. Probably a wise move. I’m staying with my brother for now. Until, you know, I can find another job and my own place. I’ve never had my own place. I’d moved right from my parent’s house to Jewel’s.”
“You look excited.”
“I am.” Bailey flicked her cigarette onto the sidewalk and took Wren’s hands. “I know I’m not good enough for you yet. I don’t have a job or my own place.”
“You don’t have a girlfriend,” Wren said. “That’s a plus.”
“I guess that does help. Would you want to…um…If you don’t have any plans, would you ride to the beach with me tonight? I thought of you when I watched the sun come up. I think about you all the time, but I really wished you were there this morning.”
“I don’t have any plans. I did. I had a date tonight, but after you called yesterday I cancelled it. I heard your voice again and I just couldn’t go out with someone else.”
“Don’t,” Bailey said, and she kissed her hard. “Don’t go out with anyone else. Come with me.”
“I will,” said Wren.
“Maybe it’ll rain. You can show me what the rain looks like on the ocean.”
“I want you to see that,” Wren said, lying her head against Bailey’s chest. “But if it rains, we’re taking my car.”
“That’s a good idea.”
They held each other and planned their trip.